


Home in the Mountain

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo gets super pissed at Thorin, M/M, Thorin does what he wants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-11-28 21:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/679115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Made for a prompt for The Hobbit kink meme. Bilbo gets his stuff stolen from his home to Erebor cause Thorin wants Bilbo to live in Erebor. *SPOILER* No one dies at the Battle of Five Armies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home in the Mountain

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (from Livejournal): Bilbo starts to realize that his possessions are slowly going missing. It starts with small things-- doilies and parchment paper, pillows in spare rooms he never enters. Then his grandmother's chest. His mother's plates. The rugs he bought on sale when he became of age. He assumes it's all a big prank, because the Tooks and Brandybucks are absolute horrid when it comes to pranks, but he'll get them back in due time.  
> Then his favorite armchair goes missing, the one his father loved, and he cannot let it stand. That's when Bilbo finds out that the dwarves have slyly been taking Bilbo's things and moving them to Erebor by command of Thorin. After all, Erebor is all glittering gold and hard textiles-- nothing like the softness and homeyness of Bilbo's things in Bag End. Thorin just wants to make everything feel more like home, and what can feel more like home then, well, home?  
> Bilbo thinks Thorin is an absolute idiot, but his father's armchair does look quite nice next to the hearth in Thorin's bedchambers.
> 
> If you ever want me to do a certain prompt, just comment or message me what you want.

Bilbo was busily cleaning out his house, making sure everything was neat and that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins hadn’t tried to take anything, the old hag. It had been two months since he had finally bought back his belongings, or as much as he could. Only a few days before he’d sent a letter off to Erebor asking how everyone was. He missed his friends, but he had left Erebor out of shame of seeing Thorin. He’d barely survived, and every time he saw him a fear grew that he would die. As much as he cared about Thorin, it pained Bilbo to be around him.  
Bilbo was busy grabbing a spoon for second breakfast when he noticed that a few were missing.  
“Lobelia,” he whispered angrily. “What has the old hag done with my damned spoons this time?” He grabbed one, then sat down and began to eat.  
Once he finished and had washed up his dishes, he walked into his living room and sat back and tried to relax. Just thinking about his things being taken physically exhausted him. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and held his hand up to his forehead. Oh what a day that he guessed it would be!  
And when he opened his eyes he saw that his pen and stack of books that had been there only a few moments before was gone.  
“Oh no,” he muttered. “Whichever of you little Tooks are in here stealing my things, give them back now and show yourselves or I’ll give you all a good shaking. This is not funny!”  
No one appeared.  
“Brandybucks,” he said. “Get out of here! If both of you monsters are in here then run out while you still can.” He sighed, then went back in the kitchen to start a cup of tea. He could tell he needed it.  
“Maybe you’re imagining it,” he said. “Stacks of books and a pen don’t just vanish into thin air in seconds flat. You really need to just get some rest.”  
And once he finished his tea, that was just what he did. When he woke up, he reassured himself that he’d just been under stress after having to adjust to his life back in the Shire. He smiled, then sat up and smoothed out his hair, both on his head and feet, and clothing.  
However, once he got into his living room he noticed that a few pillows were missing. He rubbed his eyes, and once he finished doing that and seeing no change, began to blink his eyes. This was impossible!  
He walked into his next room and decided to see if perhaps some things had been dropped there while he was cleaning that he’d forgotten about. Surely he would hear the giggling of small hobbits playing a prank on him.  
His doilies were missing. He pouted, wondering if he’d accidentally left them in pockets of his dirty trousers. That was a reasonable answer, one any good and respectable Baggins would think. Yes, that had to be the answer. What would the little hobbits want to steal doilies for?  
Bilbo decided that the things must be misplaced, nothing more. Even if the children of the Tooks were stealing things, they wouldn’t just steal doilies. He’d heard them say that doilies were stupid, so they’d just leave them there and go for something else.  
Bilbo felt like another cup of tea, and went to start another kettle of it. He began to whistle, telling himself that this was all crazy and soon he’d know the answer to why everything was happening. At least he knew that Lobelia Sackville-Baggins wasn’t doing it-she had enough doilies for herself.  
Bilbo’s tea finished, and he poured it into a cup and began to sit down when he noticed something.  
My plates, he thought. They’re gone!  
Instead of his usual amount, fifty (hobbits do need quite a few plates for their many meals), there were only ten! This was impossible.  
But how could they just suddenly take off with fifty of his plates and he not even hear a sound? He looked around and saw that most of his cups were missing as well, along with his collection of china bowls.  
He angrily stamped his foot. “Who thought this joke was anything close to funny?” He clenched his fists, then grabbed his coat from the rack near his front door and left to go speak with the Tooks and Brandybucks to stop this tomfoolery.  
Unknown to him, as he left, a few dwarves snuck into his house, ready to grab more things.  
When he got to the closest Took house, he knocked on the door. He did it three times, and when he didn’t hear even a reply of “Coming!” he continued with his insistent knocking.  
“Why isn’t anyone home?!” he yelled, then left. He was too exhausted from coming all the way here to go to see any of the Brandybucks. He went back home to at least see if he could find the thief, or thieves, in action. They were really going to get a good shaking for this.  
But once Bilbo got home he was shocked to see that a few of his chests and most of his furniture was gone. He could have only been gone for a half an hour! He grinded his teeth together, then began marching through his house in hopes of finding the thieves.  
Everywhere he looked he found nothing. If thieves had been there before, they had made their escape. Bilbo began to arrange everything that he had left and kept a close eye on it, as if the thief would come out in plain sight.  
Eventually he grew tired of it and fell into his father’s old, well-worn armchair. He grabbed a book, one of the few he had left, and decided he might as well read it. Tomorrow he would deal with the trouble. He took out his pipe and began to smoke it, though he didn’t focus much on it. Why did this have to happen to him? Was it really that funny to prank him?  
When he finished the book, staying up late reading it in hopes of hearing the thief, he finally went to bed. He hadn’t heard anything other than his own breathing and the rhythmic sound of him flipping pages.  
When he woke up he saw that even his grandfather’s old armchair was gone. He could no longer deny what was happening, and he was seething with anger. He imagined steam coming out of his ears.  
Where his rug should’ve been was bare floor, where his plates should have been an empty cabinet, and his bookshelves were completely bare. He stormed through his house, looking over whatever he had left. All that was left was a small amount of furniture and a few pairs of clothing. They even took his clothes, the dirty little bastards!  
And his father’s armchair of all things. It was one of the only things he had left of the poor man who had died years before. Everyone had known how his father’s death had affected him, and yet they still felt the nerve to take it from him. He was going to shake whoever took them half to death, to where they’d be wishing they had never met their cousin Bilbo.  
He looked outside in hopes of seeing something, anything, and he did. He smiled, then quickly ran outside.  
“H-Hello,” said Kili weakly. “Master Baggins, it’s a fine day, isn’t it?” He gave a smile that was beginning to break.  
“What are you holding?” Bilbo asked, looking to see in Kili’s hands a stack of books. “You never seemed like the literary type to me.”  
Kili quickly turned away from him and began sprinting. Bilbo tried to keep up with him, but he was exhausted. The damned bastard was stealing his things!  
He went inside and quickly made a pack of food and other supplies, then set off to Erebor. The dwarves would be surprised to see him visiting so shortly after Erebor’s reclamation, but even more surprised that Kili had taken his things. Fili was likely involved with it as well, the two little rats thinking they were just playing a harmless prank on Bilbo. Ha, harmless was the last thing it’d be!  
The journey to Erebor was rather short, only a good three weeks at most. More dwarven patrols had been, so roads were far safer than they’d been before. Even the elves he saw while in Mirkwood didn’t imprison him, and he had no use for his ring at the time.  
Once in Dale, Bilbo was truly seething. The rebuilding was going fine, which pleased Bilbo, and to calm himself a little he went to go have a good chat with Bard. They discussed everything from the rebuilding of Dale and Erebor to simpler things such as good books. Bilbo was glad to get to know Bard better.  
“The people love me now,” Bard said. “I never would’ve saw it coming, and it’s all thanks to you. Thanks for discovering the dragon’s weak spot for me.”  
Bilbo laughed. “I’m glad it was worth it for you.”  
Once he left, however, he was angry once more. It was only a short walk to Erebor, and he quickly got in. It seemed even the guarding dwarves knew exactly who he was.  
He got there late at night, however, and he was quite exhausted. Originally Bard had offered him a bed, but he’d refused it, his anger returning to the thought of his items being stolen. He walked into Erebor, torches lighting up the city under the mountain. It truly was beautiful, and Bilbo took a few moments to just stare at it in awe. Once that finished, however, he began to look for Thorin to tell him of his nephew’s wrongdoings.  
He didn’t know how tired he was until he ended up in Erebor’s royal halls and passed out just in front of Thorin’s room, his large stone door the last thing that he saw.  
When he woke up, a blanket was over him and a fire was on. He blinked, looking around. Everything that had been missing was neatly set up around him, but he knew he wasn’t in Bag End.  
“How?” he questioned, looking around. Only then did he remember he was in Erebor.  
“You’re awake!” Thorin’s delighted voice said. Bilbo had been too amazed at finding his things to notice that Thorin was sitting in a corner reading one of Bilbo’s books. This had to have been a dream-Thorin did not read!  
“What is going on here?” he asked, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes. Only then did he notice that Thorin was sitting in his father’s dark red armchair, his face lit up by the fireplace.  
“Bilbo,” he said with a smile. “I’m so glad that you came to Erebor. It’s been a couple months.”  
Bilbo scowled. “What’s all my stuff doing here?”  
Thorin turned red from the tip of his ears to the bottom of his neck. Yes, things were definitely getting strange. He scratched the back of his head, messing up his black-grey hair. “Well, I knew that you’d miss the Shire if you ever came to Erebor, so I tried to improvise.”  
It took a moment for Bilbo to realize just what he’d said, and was shocked. Why had he even thought of this?  
“What did you do this for?” he roared. “You can’t just send in your nephews-”  
“A few more dwarves than just Fili and Kili were involved,” Thorin said.  
“You can’t just send in your dwarves and steal my things! I probably scared my poor family members and you made me despise Lobelia Sackville-Baggins for something she didn’t do!”  
“Well,” Thorin said. “We probably should’ve realized that would happen, now that I look back at it in retrospect.” He sighed. “I understand your anger, Halfling.”  
“You better,” Bilbo said. He threw his covers off, realizing these were his ones from his home. They were as neatly folded as his ones at home.  
Thorin had made sure things were exactly as Bilbo liked.  
“So why did you do this?” Bilbo questioned. “You must have an explanation for uprooting me from the Shire again.”  
“Gandalf was the one who did it the first time!” Thorin said in his defense.  
“So why did you tear me from the Shire?”  
Thorin looked away from him, up at one of the paintings neatly hung on the wall. “We missed you, Halfling. I-I,” he took a deep breath, then exhaled after a moment, though it felt like hours. “I missed you, Bilbo. I missed you so much.”  
Bilbo got up and walked up to him, draping his arms around his friend’s, or now his more than friend’s, arms. Then, he leaned in and kissed him, his beard tickling Bilbo’s chin. Thorin seemed surprised, then quickly joined in. Their embrace was full of everything, all the pain and longing, heartbreak and happiness, that they’d shared. It was released without regret, and it mingled between them. Thorin ran his fingers through Bilbo’s curls, and Bilbo felt Thorin’s back. It was the happiest that Bilbo had been in a long time.  
Once they released, Bilbo stared up into Thorin’s eyes. “You did all this to make me stay in Erebor, didn’t you?”  
Thorin nodded.  
“You’re never one for just asking,” Bilbo commented. “You couldn’t have just asked me to stay, could you?”  
Thorin gave a sad smile. “Well, I was scared that you’d say no.”  
Bilbo kissed him again. “Of course I wouldn’t say no.”  
When they finished, the kiss longer and even more passionate than the last one, Bilbo slapped Thorin on the face, harder than he ever had.  
Thorin rubbed his red cheek. “Halfling, Iluvatar, what that was that for?”  
Bilbo smirked. “Well you did make me quite angry. I do think you at least deserve a small punishment for that.” He leaned in and kissed Thorin once more. “But’s that all the punishment that you’ll get. I forgive you.”  
“I’m glad,” Thorin said.  
And though Bilbo had never imagined kissing someone on his father’s armchair, it seemed to serve a good purpose for it.  
Bilbo hoped it would happen again sooner rather than later. He loved being close to Thorin, feeling warm next to him. There was nothing that compared to this. He could get quite used to it, and he was sure he’d learn to love Erebor as well. Besides, it did have a small slice of home for him in the mountain to return to whenever he felt homesick.


End file.
